What will become of the Boy?
by Neferit
Summary: If there was a sentence, string of words, that Kili hated with passion, it was the sentence: "What will become of the boy?", muttered by his mother, by his uncle, by his father, by his teachers, by his own brother. Genderswap, Fem!Bilbo.


**A/N:** Written for the prompt:

_Kili is in love with Bilbo, but he thinks he will never have a chance with him. The line of Durin in general is not exactly handsome, but he is the icing on the cake of un-dwarven-ness - hair so unruly no braids stay in, a straight nose, basically no beard, even at age seventy seven. He was slight in build and tall for a dwarf and was not all that talented with a sword. He just barely knew his way around a forge and he just finished the traditional beads for if he found the person he wanted to spend his life with - not that they were anything special and the thought of giving Bilbo such an unworthy gift gives him nightmares. That doesn't mean he hasn't got any qualities. An example of course is his bow, basically the only dwarf to master this weapon because he got excellent eyesight even above ground. It always got him bullied, but it saves lives, so he is going to be proud of it. He is a good cook, at home always the one to make their meals if they wanted something edible - that their mother could barely provide, she just wasn't that type of dwarrowdam. Basically I want really insecure!Kili, that got bullied as a child and isn't really convinced of his worth as a dwarf, not seeing that all that is why Bilbo really loves him._

And the OP didn't mind fem!Bilbo, so fem!Bilbo it is. Just so you know. Because of REASONS.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my cup of coffee. Which is half empty. *le sigh*

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**What Will Become of the Boy?**

If there was a sentence, string of words, that Kili hated with passion, it was the sentence: "What will become of the boy?", muttered by his mother, by his uncle, by his father, by his teachers, by his own brother.

_What will become of the boy?_

He had been beaten by several other boys for yet another time of the many that he was sure will come in the future. Unable to land a strong enough hit at so many attackers, he was an easy victim to their bullying, and the reason why he ended with just a bunch of bruises and bloody nose was that his older brother had the best timing ever. His mother just cleaned his face from the blood, applied salve to his bruises, and when she obviously thought he can't hear hear, she sighed and mumbled the accursed sentence.

_What will become of the boy?_

Alright, so maybe he was not that competent around the forge - sure, he knew how to take care of his weapons (short sword, several daggers and his bow), but to actually make them? Errr, no. The current state of the forge was quite a good evidence of that statement - they only now managed to put out the flames, all of them charred and he would bet his bow that the forge will smell of smoke for months. He felt really bad as he observed the damage he made to the forge - but not as bad when he saw his father shake his head and say it.

_What will become of the boy?_

His courting beads should be the masterpiece of his hands - made out of scrap of precious metals, with his family runes and signs in its designs; every line precise and clear. Instead, compared to the beads his older brother made several year ago, compared to the beads his mother wears in her hair still, compared to the so far unused beads his uncle carries in a small pouch on his body... they just look pathetic. Courting beads should be perfectly round - but somehow, his are more of an... ellipse than a globe, with the engraving at different depth at places, as well as several wrong lines here and there, making his cheeks remind him of flames, when he showed them to his mother and heard the familiar sigh.

_What will become of the boy?_

**-o.O.o-**

Sometimes he wondered whether his whole life had been some kind of test Mahal sent to him; to test his resolve. Or maybe was Mahal testing his family, whether they would still treat him kindly, even if he was - according to some badly hidden snides - anything but a picture of proper dwarf.

Bow instead of a sword, axe or hammer, like a proper dwarf should be using. Sure, it brought game upon the table, but at the same time, every mouthful of the dish he prepared from what he managed to shoot, tasted like ashes in his mouth when he saw his family exchange wary glances.

More than capable in the kitchens, but an utter failure in the forge - even the cook, Bombur of Ur family, had been better smith than he, Kili of line of Durin, was.

Slight, tall and deft, where he should be stout, stocky and muscular. _Elf_, they called him when they thought he couldn't hear them - or at times exactly where they knew he could hear them, waiting for a reaction forcing its way out of him.

Sometimes he saw his family gaze at him thoughtfully and he could see the words forming in their minds. Elf. What did we do to anger Mahal so?

Sometimes, he wondered whether his family, _everyone else_, had been right.

_What will become of the boy?_

**-o.O.o-**

Fili, freshly of age as he was, was already courting a dwarrowdam of name Thria - which of course put pressure on Kili to find someone to court once he's of age as well.

But every time he looked at available women, Mahal, he looked even at the available _men_ as well, all he saw were the cruel smirks and the mocking laughter, accompanied by the same sentence all over again, either whispered or said out loud.

_What will become of the boy?_

Of course, he was second heir, _the spare_, as he heard others refer to him when his back was turned, and as that would be considered rather good catch, as his bloodline balanced all his... lacking traits.

He didn't want to be the unwanted one in the marriage, and so he kept on refusing the offers with a smile - bright, and most of all, false all around.

Only his brother knew, and Kili hated it, when Fili's eyes would soften at the sight of his younger brother smiling brightly, pretending not to know what the other one meant with showing their braids under is nose for examination.

Let his older brother be happy with the woman of his heart - even if it would break his own heart apart.

**-o.O.o-**

Bell Boggins, scratch that, Bell _Baggins_, had been one very curious creature - fussy and very much unprepared for the world outside of her peaceful and green Shire, but she was persistent and about as stubborn as a mule (he would say 'dwarf' but not even dwarves could be stubborn quite as much without lots of preparations beforehand).

And she was so beautiful that it made his heart ready to burst out of his chest, so it could lay at her feet, ready for her to pick it up and keep.

But she deserved someone who was a proper dwarf. Not someone like him.

**-o.O.o-**

Miss Baggins, or Bell, as she told him to call her, had more inner depths that many a person would be surprised to find. Like - she may have absolutely no idea how to handle a sword, or a dagger or anything close range really - but give her a stone or a throwing dagger, _heck_, sling or even a bow, and she would be able to hit a fly right between the eyes.

Only because of their combined efforts the company always had some game to put into the stew at the evening - and only because of them the stews tasted as good as they did. Sure, in the beginning of their journey it was Bombur, a cook of certain renown of his own, who made the evening meal - but once Bell volunteered to cook for dinner, to give Bombur some time to care properly for his beard and Kili was around to help her with preparing the meat, the job somehow fell to their hands.

"With the way you cook and prepare the meat, master Kili, you would make an excellent hobbit," Bell told him once, her eyes sincere and inviting, a slight blush on her cheeks.

And for a moment, he actually wanted to be a hobbit, for that would make him a good match for her.

**-o.O.o-**

"The dwarven courting is rather elaborate process, mistress Bella, but the most important of it all are our courting beads."

"That sounds curious - are those courting beads something you wear publicly? Or are they something to mostly keep private and show only to your intended?"

Most of the company showed Bell their courting beads - even Thorin, much more civil towards the hobbit after she saved his life, showed her the ones he created so long ago, allowing her to pick all of them up and look at them closely. Only Kili was conveniently absent from the whole thing - out of the eye, but not from the mind. He also conveniently returned only when Bell was telling their companions how hobbits courted.

"... not to mention food. Food is a very important part of hobbit courting. And, of course, flowers."

"I understand the food," interjected Bofur, "but _flowers_?"

Bell's ringing laughter rang through Beorn's house. "Of course, master Bofur," she said, her lips still carrying a small smile. "Flowers. We hobbits enjoy simple and living things - sure, flowers do not last that long, but the message you can convey by using them will always ring in the heart of the person those words are meant for."

She further explained the meaning of the most common flowers, with Kili carefully putting the knowledge into his memory.

Bell was meant for flowers - not for faulty beads - anyway. Not that he was planning anything, of course.

**-o.O.o-**

It shouldn't come as a surprise that it was Bell who went to join him outside Beorn's house one evening - probably the last one they would spent in peace that was the skinchanger's home. They sat side by side as they did so many times before, sharing a pipe, Bell showing off her smoke rings that Kili always tried to copy without success.

Just this time, Bell handed him the pipe back and said: "I noticed that you somehow went missing when we started talking about courtship the other day. I hope the subject didn't make you uncomfortable?"

There it was. Cat out of the bag, no pun intended. Pulling from the pipe in his hand, Kili willed his hands stop shaking before he blew the smoke out and in hushed tones started explaining why the subject of courting was completely okay - while the subject of courting beads was most certainly everything but okay.

In a moment of rash decisions he showed her the beads in all their imperfection - his eyes lingering at the uneven shape, badly done engravings and letters. He heard Bell's breath catch in her throat and he braced himself for the laughter he just knew would come, when Bell looked up from the beads in her hand and said:

"They are beautiful, Kili."

**-o.O.o-**

For a second, Kili thought he heard her wrong - those badly misshapen beads, and beautiful? What kind of joke was that? Yet Bella wasn't finished.

"The beads the others showed me," she started, rolling the beads around her palm, "they were perfect. _Too perfect_," she specified, when she saw the hurt flash over his face. Letting her eyes drop back to the items in her hand she continued: "That's one of the reasons why we hobbits court with flowers, you know - those are not perfect, but that makes their meaning so much truer in our eyes and in our hearts. I am not perfect, they say, but everything I am, I give to you." She reached into her pocket, pulling a small bouquet of rather crumpled flowers out of one of her pockets and offering them to him.

Her eyes were so open and so sincere and _so vulnerable_ at that moment that Kili did the only sensible thing he could.

Leaning in, he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.

**-o.O.o-**

The long time they were traveling through the Mirkwood had been made even longer by the never ending darkness enveloping them endlessly. At times, Kili thought he was going to get mad from the unnatural silence, only Bell by his side keeping him sane.

She was also the only thing that kept his spirits high during their unwilling stay in the fortress of King Thranduil. The elves that were on guard duty often commented on how he was always in good mood, actually speaking to them - usually just a joke here or there, nothing really interesting or important, but it was still more than what they heard from the rest of the dwarves.

The elven captain, woman of name Tauriel, took special interest in him, and only his life-long experience with masking how he really felt (and that never failed him before - well, unless he tried to mask his feelings before Bell) saved him from exposing why exactly he's so cheerful all the time.

That was before the time for their escape came, and Bell nearly drowned.

**-o.O.o-**

Of all the possible times to have the infamous sentence said, not, yelled at him, this was the least pleasant one.

His uncle, Thorin, had gone mad with the dragon fever, and Bell, in her desperate try for peace, hid away the Arkenstone and delivered it to Bard and Thranduil. But Thorin, with his mind fogged by madness, didn't see it as that.

Oh no.

In his mind, what Bell did was a sign of treachery, the deepest betrayal she could do - and once Kili saw her dangling from Thorin's grasp, struggling to breathe, he knew what he had to do; ram into his uncle, forcing him to let her go.

"You! The miscreant of an heir, dwarrow unable to do anything properly, shame to his own family! You and your thief are to be banished from Erebor. Now get out of my sight before I decide not to be so merciful."

Bell held him that night, as they rested in the Men encampment, in tent graciously given to them by Bard, whispering words of comfort into his hair as he cried all the pain, accumulated in his soul throughout his whole life, out.

**-o.O.o-**

The whole battle finally won, if not without heavy losses. His brother and uncle were in critical condition, the healers struggling to save their lives, as he brokenly sat in his and Bell's tent in Men encampment.

He was mostly unharmed, only scratches and bruises that - apart from washing - didn't need much attention. But he was unable to locate Bell - ever since he heard her yelling about the arrival of Eagles, he had yet to find anyone who would be able to tell him anything about her.

_'Idiot of a dwarf,'_ he thought, punching the ground with his fist, hissing at the pain spreading through his body, _'she is your wife to be and yet you are unable to protect her from harm. How useless can you get?!'_

Yet while he couldn't find Bell, Bell found him - her expression pained, as she stumbled into their tent, with a bandage around her head, but once he closed the distance between them and held her to him, she clung to him as if her life depended on it.

It probably did, but right now, in each other's embrace they couldn't care less about what was happening outside their little bubble of comfort.

**-o.O.o-**

The Erebor was finally fully reclaimed, her King crowned and her people finally returning after their almost two centuries long exile, and Kili was leaving.

After his brother and uncle finally recovered enough to raise the banishment from him and Bell, they asked him to stay - but this was the only one of their pleas he just couldn't fulfil; not after what happened during the Arkenstone debacle. The image of his Bell hanging from Thorin's grasp, his brother just standing there and watching it all happen with indifferent eyes, not to mention the words exchanged afterwards; all of this was heavy on his mind, stopping him whenever he tried to forget.

Instead, he begged his uncle to send him to Shire, to appoint him an ambassador for relations with the land his wife to be came from, so he could become her husband in the eyes of her people and family, where he could be his own man and his own improper dwarf.

Land, where he could be - as his Bell said - _just Kili_. Nothing more and nothing less, because he finally knew what will become of the small boy, who never fully fit in.

He would grow up, and finally find his place in the world.

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A/N: Alright, the cat's out of the bag. I'm sap. AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO SAY IT xD


End file.
